Just One Yesterday
by poets-in-l o v e
Summary: He was Dan. She was Natalie. He was dynamic. She was spoiled. He never thought things through. She thought too much. He broke a few hearts too many. She was taught not to have one. It started with a bet for him and for her an act of vengeance, and one day before they had learned how to love, they just wanted to destroy. "I want to teach you a lesson in the worse kind of way."
1. Prologue

**Hullo, it's me again with another 39 clues story. A bit different than Cahill Games because this is wholeheartedly original. Somewhat.**

**This is AU, like COMPLETELY. No Clue Hunt, high school, seemingly typical crap. But I plan to make it **_**refine **_**crap. It's slightly based on the song "Just One Yesterday" (which I recommend you to listen while reading) hence the title.**

**Hopefully. I'm not entirely sure where I want to go with this so I made a prologue, a sort of sneak peek. A part of the story, somewhere deep in the plot. **

**In this story please be noted that Arthur and Hope are alive, Amy is going on eighteen and Dan is sixteen- same thing is applicable to Ian and Natalie. And before you can chastise me about Dan's characterization, please note that he's sixteen year old, human, and **_**shockingly**_**-get this- male, not a twelve year old girl or/and not (my apologies, Twilight fans) Edward Cullen.**

**I am merely showing you the behaviours of a good-looking teenage boy realistically. I know this is Fanfiction, the epitome of everything unrealistic, but honestly as a fiction writer, there are also facts to stick to. **

**Warning: Language- it's rated T, there's no content but there are bits of profanity so should I change it or not? **

**Pairings: Natan**

**Side-pairings: Amian and some others I'm still not particularly sure about (this was sort of a spur of the moment fanfic)  
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**Disclaimer: Love you, Scholastic and the other tens and thousands of the authors who wrote the 39 Clues. And also, you too Fall Out Boy. (I love you Patrick Stump)**

**Enjoy (or maybe not) and review!**

_I__f I spill my guts,  
>The world would never look at you the same way.<br>And now I'm here to give you all my love,  
>So I can watch your face as I take it all away, away, away yeah. – Just One Yesterday, Fall Out Boy.<em>

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"I don't love you."

Her words were clear and precise in his head. They resounded in his head over and over again like a snare drum in Dan's head. He could try and forget what she just said but he couldn't. He felt duped- _he _was the one who was supposed to play her, and then break her. Words were weapon, Amy had repeatedly told him that, and for no reason in particular, he wanted to hurt Natalie more than he ever wanted to hurt any other girl.

In fact, Dan Cahill wasn't sure why he had ever wanted to hurt girls before. Usually, he wanted them, and then he wanted them to leave him alone.

But now tables had turned. He felt something and he had realized he wasn't completely numb anymore. He _could feel _himself allowing her to love him and him to the same. In his mind, she was beautiful, standing in a corridor in front of him, a face colder than ice and eyes a luminous gold, lined with eyeliner. He never knew why she ever bothered with makeup when she looked so much better without any artificial enhancement. Natalie used her beauty like a whip, but if she didn't try, she would've killed everyone in the room.

Two months ago, he would've never foreseen this outcome (honestly, no one would've) and if he did, he might've done things a bit differently. It would end like this: he had originally orchestrated to stab the knife in her back but it was she who plunged it deep to the spine. When would the game stop? This Game of poison and facades; where they would plot each other's demise just to hurt each other worse than before?

They were circles, flowers, stars and smiles; not hearts. Never hearts. They break hearts, and never had greater satisfaction of breaking each other's.

"You don't love me?" he repeated, lacing words with poison. With a great deal of sarcastic reserve: "Who said anything about love? It was all a bet, it _didn't mean anything. _You're just like every other girl I've fucked."

_Lies. All lies._

But he would never concede.

Her eyes widened but her face was passive. Natalie had taught herself not to care a great deal of emotions anymore, that she didn't want to care of what she felt but even he knew she felt the knife twisting deeper into the bone. A sharp, breathless pain to fill but never subdued to.

Pain was inevitable, after all.

"Then we're done," she clarified. Her eyes burned a thousand suns brighter. "We're done." She said again, as though he had not heard it the first time.

"Good." He sneered, and convinced himself it was time to move on. There were other girls and other things to do, things he'll continue to do in fear of breaking the cycle.

He remained silent as he watched her walked away, unaware of the tears rolling down her face. He waited intently until she was gone and the clicks of her high heels ringing across the pavement were no longer.

Now the foyer was empty.

Just like him.

_So I can watch your face as I take it all away, away, away yeah._

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><p><strong>That probably didn't make much sense BUT I hope it got your attention. If it all goes well, I'll write the first chapter very soon but reviews are my incentive so please, please send reviews. <strong>

**Like it? Review. Dislike it? Review. Completely apathetic? Review!**

**Bye!**

**-Queen.**


	2. It All Started On Bets

**So, um, hi.**

**Don't kill me. **

**I know, I know, it's been AGES since I published. Truth be told, it was just a random thing when I did it and I was not expecting such a rave around it and it's soososososososos late. And I know I'm a bitch for making you wait for so long- _eek!_ **

**But yeah. It's a pretty long chapter, so hope it makes up for it. **

**Anyway, I don't own the characters.**

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

It All Started on Bets

It was 1st of September, 7:30 in the morning, when Daniel Cahill realized he was screwed, and not in the way he usually wanted either. Pardoning the double entrendre; this all started- he would began to speculate when he's staring down in to amber eyes- with a girl.

It was a very nice looking girl, to her defense, and she had big blue eyes and blonde hair- typical. _Almost too typical_, Dan thought as he shoved her away to the other side of the bed, he preferred his women unique.

The pounding in his head only magnified when she stirred awake, staring upon Dan Cahill and awestruck that it was _the _Dan Cahill right next to her (and very much naked). She giggled, which was murder to his hangover-induced headache, stroking his arm.

"Did you hear about Sinead Starling's fling with that Holt?" she asked, and he inwardly groaned. What _happened _last night? She was one of those annoying gossip clones in his school and if _he _was even remotely sober he would've never looked at her, let alone took her home so he _must've _been passed out drunk last night. Speaking of which, if he was _that _drunk, how did he manage to find his way home?

"Well?" The clingy girl demanded.

He made a low sound in his throat that could've been _of course I heard about it _or _get the hell off me. _"You better go," he said, not choosing to answer to her mindless questions about idle gossip. "School's starting in…" he glanced at the alarm clock besides her and his eyes widened. "_Shit!"_

Then as though things couldn't be even worse: "DANIEL CAHILL, GET DOWN THIS INSTANCE OR YOU'LL BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!"

Shit.

The Universe just _love _proving him wrong, doesn't it?

"Look," he told the girl without looking at her, searching for his boxers or any article of clothing to hide his indecent…_um, _areas, "Last night was fun but it's not going to happen again." Straightforward and blunt. That was the way to deal with adolescent teen girls like these. Girls who wanted to _cuddle _and do all those sappy _cliché things _and mean something.

She stared at her, her wide blue eyes- if possible- grew even wider with shock and anger. "What do you mean _not _going to happen again?" He winced at the shrillness at her voice and rubbed his ears…_Jesus, _he must've been _really, really _drunk to have chosen this girl.

"I don't have time for this, okay?" He was starting to grow angry and he slipped his boxers on, and then hopped out of bed. "We have school and _your parents _will be freaking out, plus my sister's about to barge in here any second if I don't get down."

"You're just going to make me go?" she shrieked, "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Why?" She sound distraught, she really did. But Dan didn't allow himself to feel guilty. "Why would you do that to me?!"

"Because I need an aspirin and my head fucking hurts," he grumbled, "Also because I don't want to land detention on the first day of school…_again."_

"You're a bastard!" _Yeah, yeah, _Dan thought, _tell it to someone who cares. _She shrieked and threw the pillow- _his _pillow- onto his face. Dan just stood there calmly as she quickly wiggled into her clothes. "You'll regret this." She cried dramatically and Dan felt slightly annoyed. Dan was many things- he was an alcoholic. He was a player. He was heartless as many girls would call him when it comes to the regard of their feelings. Yes…he was many things but it wasn't as though the girls who clamoured around him ever made it _hard _for him to pick off their halos and break their _oh-so-innocent _façade.

"Use the window," he said through gritted teeth, avoiding the urge to argue. The sooner he got rid of her, the better. She glared at him but did as she was told and climbed out of the window. She slammed the window shut and began to crawl down the roof of Cahill's Manner, and then she was gone.

Dan heaved a sigh. _Finally. _

Peace and quiet.

"Dan!" His sister wrapped her fists onto his bedroom door. "Hurry up! I don't want to be late for school because of you-" he heard her mutter: "_again."_

"I'm coming down! Just let me shower for Christ's sake." He staggered into the shower and washed the stink of alcohol. He got dressed, pulling on a white t-shirt and jeans, and stumbled down the curved stairs of Cahill Manor. He followed the sounds of morning chatter and by the looks of it, his father was there too.

The breakfast room- where everybody except his mother, Hope, was present- was lit with natural light, gracing the surface with reflective sun light and led directly to the kitchen, where his mother was preparing breakfast.

"Morning," he grabbed a granola bar, picked up his discarded school bag by the corner and looked at Amy. "Aren't we going now?"

"Not so fast, young man," chastised his father, Arthur Cahill, "Sit down and have breakfast with your family."

Dan bristled. "But mom isn't even here-"

"Morning, Dan," said Mrs Cahill, radiant as ever as she entered from the kitchen double doors. Plates of stacks of pancakes, jugs of orange juice, a loaf of toast and six or seven sausages and eggs were crowded in her arms. "Your hair is still wet," she frowned and reached out to ruffle her son's head, which he in turn ducked out of the way to avoid her smothering.

"How many dishes are you planning on making?"

"Two or three- first day of school and I want you two to be fed well. Besides, Dan, it's a rare occasion you see me embracing my domesticity. You should enjoy it while you can."

Dan smiled cheekily. "It's your morning to waste." He glanced at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall, "And I hate to admit it, but Amy's right. We're going to be late for school if we don't get out now."

"Oh, all right and be-"

He slammed the door before his mother could finish.

"Wait up," huffed Amy, carrying a stack of books along with her, "Dan. Jesus, aren't you so willing to get to school?"

Dan straightened up and casually waited for his sister to tie up the laces of her converse, "I'm not. I just wanna get out of the house."

Amy perceived her brother with sad eyes and sighed. "You can't hate him forever."

"I don't hate Dad," said Dan casually, heading to Amy's small yellow Madza. Then he subtly changed the subject, he asked: "Can I drive today?"

"First of all, don't deny your adolescent hatred to Dad, which is understandable but very stupid. And second, no, because I don't want to die before the school year starts."

"I won't crash it!"

"That's not what happened last time."

"But-"

She rolled her eyes. "Just get in the car, Dan."

* * *

><p>Amy loved first days of school. There was something indistinct and contemplative about it- an underappreciated beauty of the exhilaration, the excitement, the tearful reunions upon friends, and the coming togetherness of cliques and friendships that ran amuck the school's social scenes. It was also a day of beginnings, not ends, and Amy loved beginnings.<p>

She parked her car into the space besides a truck and a teacher's Toyota and Dan, her dear brother being her dear brother, jumped out of it at first chance when she switched off her brother's playlist of _Pierce the Veil _songs. "Wait!" She yelled, stopping him from sliding out, "I'll have Book Club this afternoon. How are you going to get home?"

He shrugged. "Ham will pick me up. See ya," and then he was gone.

Sighing, she smiled at the mirror of her car, which was different from the usual grimace she gave herself when she stared upon her reflection. Her brown-ish, carroty red hair was plaited behind her small ears and her green eyes gazed back at each other. She smiled brightly, reeking of her unusual optimism. Yep, she has a good feeling about today's first day.

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><p>Attleboro High School had two new students that day. They were a brother and a sister, they were eighteen and sixteen and they were British, they couldn't have been more British-like if Dan had to say so himself. It was the girl who caught his attention, as all pretty girls in a skirt would. She had dark hair, copper skin and eyes like gold and Dan was pouring whip cream into the girl's locker room when they first met.<p>

It started with a tradition.

At the commencement of the school year, when everything was in a high buzz and everyone was like "_Oh MAI GOSH, I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!" _(cue ear-splitting shrieks and squeals), Dan and his friends like to start things off with a bang.

"Annual Start-of-the-Year Prank!" announced Hamilton Holt, Dan's best friend, "What is it going to be this year?"

"Flood the-" began Ted Starling.

"-teacher's lounge?" offered Ned Starling.

"We did that last year," said Dan, dismissing with a wave of his hand. "And _I _got suspended for two weeks. But it was worth it; however, I want to do something else this year."

Hamilton's devious grin appeared. "I have whip cream in my bag."

"Empty classrooms?" asked Ted.

"Or teacher's lounge?" inquired Ned.

"Neither," Dan grinned evilly. "Girl's locker room."

Thus was Dan not present during English's first period (Mr Kitbags snored all day and gave the kids packets, anyways, so Dan was not worried that he would be sorely missed) and snuck into the girl's changing room while the freshmen were playing volleyball in the gym with eight cans of whip cream.

Ned and Ted covered the right and left, while Hamilton sprayed it over the floors and benches and Dan broke into the lockers to filled the insides and the girls' clothes with sticky cream when the young girl had stumble in, cursing.

"Bollocks," she swore, noticing the blue steel lockers. "Bollocks, Bollocks, Bollocks. Where is the _bloody _classroom?"

It only occurred to the young girl that four males were in the _female_'s changing room and when she noticed them, she scowled particularly at Dan. "Isn't this the _girl_'s loo?"

Dan Cahill had realized he was, indeed, busted so he attempted to flirt his way out of trouble (and failed ultimately). "Hello there," he graced her with a charming smile and her scowl considerably widened. "You seemed lost. How about I show you around?"

Normally, girls would've blushed and started stuttering like his sister used to and accepted his offer but she just gave him a cold, dead glare. "I don't accept offers from peasants," she sniffed disdainfully. "And you didn't answer my question, _what are you doing in the female's loo?"_

It must've been the first time Dan was truly speechless in the presence of a pretty girl.

_She's British, _thought Dan suddenly. _Think, Dan. Dammit._

"Well, I lost my jacket."

"You lost your jumper in the female's changing room?"

"Yes."

"And you need five other blokes to help you find it."

"That's right."

"Why do you have that fattening cream poured all over the place then?"

"Well," spoke up Hamilton, saving his ass. "It's because it's to help us marked the places we had looked already, you know, like Hansel and Gretel."

"Must be one hell of a jacket."

He laughed nervously, hoping she thought it was cute. "Well," he winked, "It's my favourite."

She stared at them with her dangerous amber eyes. Her long dark hair fell in thick set of waves, styled to a perfection that will make the popular girls go green with envy, and her face was lined with perfectly applied makeup. Her legs were long, broadcast in a silk Hermes shift dress and finished with a pair of nude pumps, making her almost as tall as him.

She started to leave, muttering, "Americans are bloody strange," as she shut the door behind her.

Once she had left, Hamilton sighed a breath of relief.

"A jacket, Dan, _really?"_

"Hansel and Gretel, Hamilton. _Really?_"

* * *

><p>People had often said to appreciate certain things, you just simply needed time. Poetic notions like, "First Impressions are usual misguided" or something trivial and silly such as, "It gets better later on."<p>

Well, Natalie can safely tell those people it was all bollocks.

Bollocks. Bollocks. Bollocks.

Fucking bollocks.

Pardon the lack of courteous language, but she _so _needed to vent right now.

First impressions might not matter the most but when you walk into the room, it's often people had already decided whether they like you or not and 'it's get better later on' was a euphemism for everything shitty in the world.

No, not even _time _and wise annoying philosophies were going to help ease her perpetual irritation of her incarceration to America. Even shopping had lost its appeal and ability to make her feel better.

She was drowning in an abyss of bad accents and fattening junk food.

It was a matter of sanity before she committed suicide.

The Kabras' Cooperation was accused and, apparently, found guilty for stealing and embezzling a few hundred billion pounds from art dealing and governmental agencies but Natalie refused to believe it. That's not a possibility her poor mother, Isabel Kabra, would do such acts and was now wrongly suffering in horrible prison clothes.

And that wasn't the worst part.

The authorities had not much of an idea to do with them considering they were too old for foster systems so for an alternative, they were sentenced to live in, God forbid, America with their Aunt Irina, who was tone deaf to her opinions on her nefariously uncombed hair and neutral coloured suits that looked suspiciously like prison uniforms.

When she first heard of America from Ian, she was sincerely hoping Aunt Irina lived somewhere as fabulous as perhaps New York or Beverly Hills, but _no. _Aunt Irina had to live at a vaguely shitty town, reminiscent of a cringe-inducing and cliche American teen movie, right in the Middle-of-USA-Nowhere Town. She was still not convinced that moving to in the middle Massachusetts was going to be the rainbow-filled adventure her brother promised it'd be, and funnily enough, even _she _knew Ian was not convinced by his own promises.

Irina didn't try to bullshit her with the situation, which was brilliant and the only thing Natalie liked about the stony woman- at least, Irina was not doing the bollock-y thing by lying and covering the bollock-ness of her recent predicament with a fat dose of sweetness and smothering.

Ian chose the wise lane of not bringing up the fact that their parents were looking for twenty five years in prison and failed at distracting her with the focus of a new school and a start over when she was perfectly fine with the life she had in Britain. Maybe things would be alright; her parents' lawyers would win the battles and the Kabras would go back to their lives, climbing up the list on Forbes magazine.

Even she knew that she was grasping at the straws here. There was no way things could ever go back the way they ever were.

But yes, things were remarkably bad.

So remarkably bad that the words on her schedule in front of her escaped her attention and the bell had already rang twice which meant she was passed the usual barricade of articulation (it wasn't her fault the hot iron curler wasn't working this morning and she had made the servant went to the store to get her a new one), and she was still very much lost.

She just walked out of the girl's locker room, shaking her head at the antics of silly Americans. _Honestly, does anyone have a sense of maturity in this godforsaken country? _She journeyed down the stairs, her four inches Gucci heels clattering on the white, polished tiles, trying to decipher her schedule. Who knew classrooms in America can be so hard to understand?

Scowling, she made her way down the entire corridor and frowned…

…_Bugger._

She'd already been down this corridor twice.

* * *

><p>Natalie managed to find her way to one of her classes, and shockingly, <em>on time. <em>She strode into the room, her heels rattling the floor, demanding for everyone to look at her as she moved. Some of the girls sneered at her Hermes dress and Gucci shoes, her perfectly well-groomed appearance as compared to their shabby Hollister jeans and five dollars t-shirt bought by their mothers at Target. She shot them an intimidating look, basically telling them to _piss off, _before turning to the teacher and raised her neck. The teacher seemed flustered in her presence, as she should. "Class," the teacher's voice rang with authority, "Meet a new student: Natalie Kabra."

She heard some snicker at her name and her eyes found the intruder. It was the boy from the bathroom, with straw blond hair and jade green eyes. "Would you like to share something with the class, Dan?"

Dan- the boy who she assumed he was called- smirked, "No, Mrs Perry."

She knew what kind of boy he was immediately. The type who was a notorious troublemaker, a puppet master of girls' hearts and the sort of bloke every girl fell for and ended heartbroken. She hid a disparaging sound she made at the back of her throat. _Typical._

"Natalie, you can take a seat besides Sophie."

Her eyes wandered over to the girl Mrs Perry had indicated 'Sophie' was. Sophie had her blonde hair in similar waves; her outfit wasn't too bad (a floral blouse and a slim white skirt paired with wedges) and big blue eyes of a typical All-American beauty.

She did as she was told, crinkling her nose at the filthy _common _seat, and reluctantly sat on it. The lesson dragged on with Mrs Perry marching up and down, her chalk screeching across the blackboard and she started to notice how she was starting to find everything meaningless, especially her education. All she could think was her mother and her father, stuck in prison. It was _unfair; _she was stuck here and she knew that they weren't having much fun in prison but she couldn't help the resentment grow in her chest as she sat there, bored out of her mind.

When the class had ended, it was lunch. Natalie hoisted her purse and as she was about to leave, Sophie intervened: "Do you need help to find your way to the cafeteria?"

Sophie Watson was the most popular girl in the grade. She was a cheerleader, she was pretty and she had a group of brainwashed to be her slavery-induced friends or clones by the almost gagging amount of blondes she had behind her and she wasn't being derogatory to blondes- she was just in a _very, very _bad mood. "Yes, that would be sufficed," agreed Natalie, surrendering to the whims of undeserving isolation. She was here now; she had no choice and she might as well make some friends while she was here, even if it was some stupid _blonde American cow._

What a shit week. Shit month. Shit year.

"So," Sophie flipped her hair as they walked out the door. "You're from England, right?"

_No, really, I didn't noticed, _Natalie felt like snapping sarcastically, but instead faked a smile and swallowed down the venomous words. Instead, she replied, with less than her usual venom: "Yes, I am."

"But you're here in America and I'm going to tell you some things that will be words of your Gospel if you're going to survive the next four years. Now, you're a Grade A hottie and you're new so you don't know how things work around here. I'm Sophie, this is Kristen-" she gestured to another blonde with annoyingly perfect skin and blinding pearly whites. "-and Emma-" another white-blonde girl with what she was _utterly sure _had a boob job,"-and the rest are unimportant. If you want to be friends with us, you must date only to the reserving categories of the football team."

"Dan Cahill looks cute today," giggled Emma, looking at the straw-blond, green-eyed devil she had seen at the girls' locker room walked over to his friends and gave them whooping high fives.

"No, Ems! Dan's an asshole," screeched Sophie, eyes burning, "He slept, like, with half of the school already."

"Just because he dumped your sister Amber after she gave him her V card does not mean-"

"Oh please, they're all the same," scoffed Sophie. Natalie was momentarily lost on the banter but was caught on when Sophia touched her arm and she flinched slightly at the scarcest sense of physical contact. She attempted to wring herself out of her grip, but Sophie's fingers were iron-clad. "Natalie, honey, you know who that is?"

"I met him in the girls' bathroom," added Natalie, finally able to get her hand off Sophia's clutches.

"What was he doing in the girls' bathroom?" asked Kristen.

"It's _Dan Cahill," _said Sophie venomously, "Why isn't he in the girls' bathroom screwing some bimbo?"

"He had, um, that horrid American creamy gunk cans and…um…" explained Natalie, uncharacteristically ineloquent, "he was with his friends and they were spraying it all over the lockers."

Sophie rolled her eyes, placing one hand saucily on her hips. "Figures. Anyway, that is Dan Cahill. The number one Playboy in the entire school and most notorious troublemaker I ever laid my eyes on."

Kirsten laughed, "Oh remember when he hanged all of the underclassmen underwear on the Assembly Hall roof?"

"That wasn't _funny, _Kris-"

"It was to him."

"Of course it was," muttered Sophie darkly. They entered the cafeteria and Sophie whirled to face Natalie, her blonde ringlets almost slapping Natalie in the face: "It's easier said than done, Natalie, but the main rule is: follow our rules, you'll be popular like us and your life here in America will be all green light. You'll never have anything to worry about _ever again_."

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><p>After the prank, Dan and his group had managed to slip into History and suffered through one and a half hour of pure utter hell. Dan shook his head as he walked into the cafeteria; he swore school was a disguise for prison with teachers as wardens.<p>

The cafeteria was alive with activities. It was loud with chatter and it grew louder with laughter, rebounding against the white walls. Dan had paid for his lunch and headed over to where he usually sit, which was already obviously the most rowdy table in the room.

Girls whispered and giggled as he walked past and Hamilton waved like a mad man, "Dan, over here!"

Dan grinned simply and rushed over to join him. "Did you see the face on Sinead Starling when she opened her gym locker and noticed all her clothes was soaked in whip cream?" guffawed Hamilton when he sat down and the Starling twins joined him, heard what he said.

"That would've been hilarious-" started Ned, or was it Ted?

"-if you didn't live with her," finished Ted. "God, she's going to-"

"-kill us," narrated Ned. "She'll skin us alive."

Dan rolled his eyes. "See, this is why I'm glad I have Amy as a sister. The most damage she had ever done is when she accidentally threw her Pride and Prejudice book into the swimming pool." His eyes glazed over the turn of the conversation amongst his friends when they've launched into a series of discussion about who got the worst siblings and Dan noticed the female equivalent of his group walked into the cafeteria, a new addition in tow.

She was pretty- actually, she was kind of hot. Dark hair, dangerous amber eyes, long legs and cocoa skin, she strode behind Sophie in her dress and made eyes followed her wherever she go. She went over to the cafeteria counter to buy lunch, leaving Sophie and her cronies over to their lunch table with a promise she'd be back.

"Did you see the new girl?" asked Dan, breaking grounds on all conversation. "She was in the locker room with us. Definitely saw some interest there."

"Really, Dan?" Hamilton shook her head. "Seems like the charm didn't work. She was giving us the third degree."

"The charm always works, no girl can resist _moi,_" he insisted, putting his hands behind his head. "Just watch."

He stood from my chair and walked up towards her, then tapped her on the shoulder and she turned around with an annoyed expression on her face, with her arms crossed her and her golden eyes narrowed. "Can I help you?"

He flashed her one of his signature smirks. "Remember me?"

She looked at him up and down, confusion scrunched over her eyebrows as they knitted together, "Should I?"

"Well, I'm Dan Cahill," he held up his hand for her to shake, "The boy at the locker room."

"Oh right," she stared at his hand as if it was some filthy rat found at the bottom of the sewer and straightened up, giving him a glare with those cold eyes. "Well, what is it do you want?"

Unwilling to back down from her intense stare, he stepped closer towards her and placed a hand on hers, sliding it up her shoulder. "Well, what I want is thoroughly simple- your number and a yes to dinner this Saturday."

He was waiting for her cheeks to turn red and her to start fumbling a yes, or a speechless nod. It was _Dan Cahill _walking up to a girl and asking you out…in person! But what Dan didn't know was Natalie Kabra was unlike any other girl he had ever met. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and said something he'd never anticipated: "Thank you, but no."

…_What?_

"Excuse me?"

"I said no."

He grinned at her, trying desperately to rectify the results of the situation: "Are you sure? I mean, it's a date with _me, _Dan Cahill, is usually quite-"

"I've told you," she snapped, getting annoyed. "I'm hardly or even remotely interested in what you Americans seemed so obsessed over, what you call a 'date' and I'll _never _be interested in submitting into your pathetic, man-whoring whims. So please walk away and leave me alone before God forbids, I'll sue!"

And then, with final words to the defeated boy, she marched away from with her nose in the air.

Angrily, Dan Cahill stomped back to his table where his friends was dying of laughter, clutching their stomachs and slapping the table.

"So," said Hamilton, through his chuckles, "That went well."

"Shut up," Dan grumbled, as he glared at the rest of them. "Don't worry guys. Just the start, I'll have her begging for a date pretty soon."

"You sure, Dan?" teased Ned. "Seems like she's-"

"-not really interested," finished Ted.

"Oh please, bullshit," dismissed Dan, with a cocky grin, "I bet I can get her in a month."

"Oh really?" Hamilton stretched and shook his head at his best friend, "Is that a challenge I hear?"

Dan Cahill _never _backed out of a challenge, especially not this one. "You bet."

"Fine," smirked Hamilton, and proposed a preposition that would set the course of the entire story's future: "If you get Natalie Kabra in _one _month, I'll buy you a new car- and a good one. If you don't, you're buying _me _a new car."

"Deal."

"Deal, huh?" Hamilton held up his hand and Dan shook it. "Alright, then. _One month, _that's all you get."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Easy."

Oh, if only.

* * *

><p><strong>So um whatcha thinking? Good, bad, love it, hate it? Tell me in the reviews! <strong>

**So you noticed my Pierce the Veil mention? Yep, I love me my bands! I've always considered Dan a Green Day/Blink-182/Pierce the Veil/Sleeping With Sirens/All Time Low/A Day To Remember/Bring Me The Horizon kinda guy; certainly, _Nellie's _a fan of post-hardcore, but is it bad I see Dan listening to all these bands as well? And I simply imagine Amy more of a Daughter kind of person, possibly even the Neighbourhood or One Republic.  
><strong>

**Anyway, please review! **

**Reviews are like Kellin Quinn. Wink, wink. **

**-Electra**


	3. Burn For Burn

**WAYYY OVERDUE BUT IT'S OUT GUYS!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.  
><strong>

Chapter 2

Burn For Burn

"So," smirked Amy, on that fine first day afternoon, as he clambered into the car. "How was school?"

"Shut up."

Amy burst into peals of laughter instantly right after at her brother's misfortune of asking out Miss Kabra, a girl who had clearly shown him that she had no interest whatsoever- and about time to- and was known to be 'too good' for her 'peasant' brother. The only thing Amy could salvage of thoughts after Sinead had come to her bearing this news was laugh for hours. It was _about _time a girl turned her brother down; he needed it.

"Oh God," Amy shook her head, finally straightening up and giggling, "If only I was there to film the rejection."

"I hate you."

She ruffled his hair. "I know you do."

"You know she'll say _yes. _One way or another," argued Dan, crossing his arms and pouting like a little boy. "She can't resist me for too long."

"I don't know…Dan. She seems pretty clear about 'no'." Amy backed out of the parking spot, carefully reversing out of the school parking lot before increasing her speed onto the main road, "Maybe you've met your match."

"Whatever."

"I'm telling Nellie about this."

"You can't!" wailed Dan horrifically, sitting upright. "Please, if you don't tell her, I will _never _bug you about driving your car- I won't even touch the steering wheel!"

"Offer sounds good, but nothing will ever steer me away from bathing in your humiliation," she smiled, cackling evilly. "As your big sister, it's an obligation."

Feeling rather unoriginal, he retorted in the most effective way he could come up with: "Ugh, screw you."

"You'd do the same if it was me, Dan."

"…true that."

Amy's first day, unlike Dan's, was relatively uneventful. There was a new art teacher, unhelpful lectures on how to prepare for college and final tests, a brand new however even less appetizing than before lunch menu for the cafeteria food and some new students of which she had taken no interest in...except maybe there was _one..._no, Amy shook her head. The boy was cute; okay, no he was _gorgeous _but Amy wasn't that kind of girl who gawked and obsessed over boys. She was the girl who was level-headed and kept herself grounded to the very core.

Amy was the sort of person who immersed herself in scholarly committees and projects to concoct a perfect college application; so she applied for the extra-curricular activities she thought was most helpful in such. And as she was exiting from her book club, with several thick leather-bound books, she took a sharp turn into the right of the school hallway while distracted with the blurb and accidentally ran into a boy.

"Sorry," she murmured, retracing her steps and was about to sidestepped but stopped when she caught sight of his face and nearly had the books fell out of her hands. "Um, sorry, I'm sorry-I-"

"Do you know where the office is?'

"Um, well, I think it's around the corner," said Amy, putting her hair behind her ears in an helpless endeavour to make herself look cuter, "Why don't I show you? I don't mind."

He looked irresolute on letting her guide him to the administrator; as if he was a bit too prideful to have a peasant American girl told him where to go, but he nodded, giving in. "Okay." She realized his accent was British, specifically originating from Chelsea neighbourhoods, and she didn't know if it was just her (she had an affinity for British men...there was Benedict Cumberbatch, Tom Felton, Sam Smith, Ed Sheeran…) but she found the way he carried himself quite appealing, very sophisticated and definitely much more mature than any of the boys in this school.

Her cheeks glowed red as she took the front, walking down the corridor while he followed her.

"So," she began excitedly, "What's your name?"

"Ian," he said automatically, then paused hesitantly to say his full name: "Ian...Kabra."

"Oh," she squinted at his last name. _Kabra..._Kabra...she heard it before, but where? She wanted to ask but the tightened expression made it clear that Ian wasn't comfortable with discussing the notions of his last name so she changed the subject, "So what makes you come over to the US?"

"Family," he replied shortly.

"That's cool," she piped, "Do you have any siblings? I have a brother, but he's an annoying little twerp."

Ian smiled a little bit. "A sister. She can be...difficult."

"Yeah," she nodded, "I get what you mean. Dan is a bit high-strung and he can be an asshole, albeit I still love him."

He offered a tight smile and she awkwardly gestured to the glass doors which were the entrance to administration. "So, um, here it is."

"Thank you," he said graciously.

"I'll, um, see you around."

"I supposed," there was a cold distinction in his voice, rather awkward too. She waved, he didn't return the gesture because he had already went inside. She sighed. Guess he wasn't _that _interested.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, he was _cute,_" Amy told Sinead that day while they were finishing up their maths report on the dining table. "But he was so cold to me, like he couldn't be bothered talking to me."

"Maybe he's just shy."

"Or maybe he thinks I'm a mutated freak who jumps at any chance for a guy to talk to her."

Sinead laughed, then covered her mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry," she giggled, shaking her head while dipping her cookies into her coffee, "I shouldn't be laughing. He sounds awful, Amy. Unfriendly and cold...what's his name?"

"Ian," Amy said mournfully, "Ian Kabra."

"Kabra….as in _Natalie _Kabra's brother?!"

"I...don't know."

Sinead's eyes widened marginally, "I know his sister. She's new too and in like five of my classes," she licked the sugar off her finger and Amy handed her a tissue. "Kinda tall, carrying a Gucci purse and teetering in five inches high heels during school hours. She was the girl your brother tried to charm over but it didn't work."

"She's _that _girl?" choked Amy through her afternoon coffee, "What a coincidence."

"Or not," said Sinead mysteriously, but their conversation ended abruptly as Dan hopped into the kitchen, doing various karate chops with his hands while rocking out to some blasphemous rock music on his iPhone.

"Hey ladies," greeted Dan, grabbing a cold Red Bull from the fridge. "Doing a bit of homework, huh?"

"And you're avoiding yours?" asked Amy pointedly, with her arms crossed.

"I've taken care of them, Ames."

Amy rolled her eyes. "You mean you've paid off some Asian kid to do them."

"...shut up."

"You know; some of those Asian kids are my friends!"

"And they're being handled, frankly, quite well in economic terms," grinned Dan. He took a swig from his can while Amy sighed, shaking her head at her brother's mischievous antics; mischievous though strangely diligent. If he had ever tried to apply his strangely strategically, however brilliant mind to his studies, he would've excelled. But even without studying too much, Dan still swept past his studies with a B average.

"Anyway," Sinead said, "We heard about the fail in the cafeteria. Nice one, by the way."

Dan wagged a finger at her, "That was just a minor setback. Don't you worry, I'll probably get her within the week and Ham will owe me a new car. Soon, Amy, I'll be driving myself to school."

"A new car?" asked Amy, confused.

"It's just a bet Ham and I made," said Dan, relaxed, "If I can get that pretty little thing to go out with me within the month, the car is mine. If I don't, well...but let's face it, I probably will."

Amy narrowed her eyes. "You betted on a girl?"

"Yeah. So?"

"That's not funny, Dan! You're betting on a girl's _feelings, _toying with her heart-"

"Oh, shut your feminism crap," Dan rolled his eyes blithely, emptying the can and tossing it in the bin with one perfect motion. "Young love is all about breaking hearts. And besides, the girls seemed to eat it all up…"

"That's because we're holding on for something better!"

"Well, whatever," shrugged Dan. Amy placed her hands on her hips, but before she could open her mouth to lecture him, "Bye, Amy," he exited out of the kitchen, leaving Amy furious and Sinead watching in amusement.

"You know, as much as he's an asshole," concluded Sinead, folding her fingers under her chin with a slight grin, "He's funny."

"Yeah, that's Dan in a nutshell. A funny asshole."

Once the day was over, Ian flopped onto the bed of his brand new room, exhaustion and events taking toll on his mind as he groaned into his pillow.

"I _told _you America was a bloody waste of time."

His sister had invaded his room.

He lifted his head from the pillow to see his sister's heels clicking their ways to the chair by the study table. She occupied the seat of the chaise lounge, her hand resting like a kitten on the handle, inspecting her filed nails.

At the sight of her, Ian very much felt like asking her to bugger off. He was _so _not in the mood to deal with his little sister and her lists of complaints on why they shouldn't have moved, or stay home in their twenty one million pound penthouse in London, supporting their parents who were facing an embezzling trial and twenty five years in jail. But instead, he sighed exasperatedly, lifted his head of where he previously buried it and said:

"What is it, Natalie?"

"What is it?" she prodded dangerously, her golden eyes cold and calculating. "It's everything, Ian! We're stuck in the middle of bollocking nowhere! You _promised _it would be fine. The malls around here doesn't even have a Chanel outlet- that's _ghastly._"

"Natalie," he said, laboured with irritation. "You're just going to have to deal with it."

"Deal with it?" she shrieked, losing the levelheaded cool a Kabra was famous for. "If you weren't my brother, I would've sued! We could've gone to anywhere in the States; New York, Los Angeles...but _no, _we're here! Some godforsaken American town where the only decent food is the cheap Chinese takeout."

"Natalie, shut up!" He shouted over her, rising to her feet. She was taken aback, the puzzlement evident on her face. "Look," he seized hold of clarity from the moment of anger, and spoke calmly, but sternly, "things are different now. Because of the trial, the accusation, all of our assets have been frozen. We cannot afford the luxury we're used to. For better or worse, we're stuck here now, in the care of Irina. At least, we're not on the streets of London, scrounging for food. Consider yourself lucky and stop whining."

She looked resentful, the lucidity of her hatred for being confined was beaming but he could see she was slightly guilty for what she had said- it wasn't as if he had control of what was happening to them.

"_Whatever,_" she held her nose in the air and marched out of his room.

_Finally. Some bloody peace. _Falling back into the sea of pillows, Ian lie there for several minutes with his eyes closed, relishing the silence until he realized he had homework. _Urgh. _

It was not fair!

He was right, but it still wasn't _sodding _fair!

Making a sound of frustration at the back of her throat, she had a growing impulse to punch the wall but she couldn't do that. She would ruined her manicure.

Suddenly, her phone rang and she took it out, reading the display name: **Sophie Watson**

_What does she wants? _thought Natalie irritably, but she answered it anyway, snapping:

"What?"

"Hey, Natalie," greeted the familiarity of the smug American accent from her blonde friend, "Kris, Em and I are at the mall. Wanna hang?"

Natalie considered it. Stuck doing her American maths Trigonometry homework in her aunt's distastefully horrendous interior-designed mansion or squander the rest of her afternoon with three American blonde bimbos, sipping fattening Starbucks while shopping in non-designer stores?

"Sure," sighed Natalie, tired of trying to fight everything. "Why not?"

The mall wasn't too bad. Emma and Kristen, however, checked every single mile-marker of a typical white girl, constantly snapping selfies of every '_oh my god totes adorbs' _outfit they've seen at Bloomingdales, Macy's, and the plethora of department stores Natalie wanted to escape while clutching their pumpkin spice lattes as they shrieked about Instagram.

Sophie was surprisingly not too bad of company, staying by her as she picked out several Marc Jacob dresses. The impulse to buy everything in the store was scratching her at the neck- she needed some retail therapy, _desperately, _especially after her and Ian's fight. She just wanted some things to take off her mind.

"Wow," grinned Sophie at the large collection in Natalie's arms when she dumped it at the cashier and handed her credit card. "Someone's eager to start this year off with a fashion bang."

"My brother," sighed Natalie irately, "He was a pain."

Sophie simpered, "Ooh, that sucks. Big brothers can be such a pain in the ass."

Natalie didn't laugh, but she smirked.

"Come on," said Sophie to her friends when Natalie grabbed her shopping bags, heading towards the exit, "Let's go to Java's for some coffee."

Together, the four girls walked themselves over to the most overcrowded coffee lounge in the entire was a popular hotspot within the grapevine of the school's gossip centre; famous for it's wonderful cinnamon lattes during the fall, hot chocolates in the winter, lavender tea at spring and iced frappes on a scorching summer day, everybody loved Java. The atmosphere exuded a warm and friendly aura; friendship cliques inhabiting Java's plush purple couches, or tall, sturdy tables, while chatting, gossiping, studying. It was the homelife of the student's world.

Unfortunately, much to Natalie's chagrin, the annoying boy from the cafeteria was there too.

_Great, _thought Natalie, brushing her hair from her face as Sophie and her settled down onto a free table- a rarity in Java's- _he's going to try to ask me out. Again. Seriously? I have no times for peasant boys. _"Ugh," Sophie wrinkled her nose, voicing Natalie's thoughts at the sight of Dan Cahill and his friends occupying the table right opposite them. "That spoils the view."

"He tried to ask me out today," said Natalie.

"Did you say yes?"

"I didn't."

Sophie looked relieved, "Thank God, you didn't. Or not you'll just be another X on the list of girls he's screwed over."

"But he's so _cute,_" Emma giggled to Kristen, stirring her coffee, watching as Dan high-fived Hamilton over something as trivial as a football touchdown. Natalie resisted scoffing at Emma's behaviour-_ have you no self-respect or proprietary? _But Natalie secretly agreed on the terms of Dan Cahill's appearance...he was rather...Natalie hated to admit, _dashing, _with that All-American rugged bad-boy charm he gave.

Suddenly, as if Dan had heard Natalie's thoughts, he smirked at her and started approaching her, sauntering towards their table.

"Here he comes," Sophie muttered.

"Hey girls," he winked at Kristen, who blushed and nearly dropped her coffee. His eyes flitted towards Natalie, "Hey...new girl."

"It's _Natalie,_" she told him coldly.

"Sure, _Nat."_

"It's Natalie!"

He grinned, "I'll stick with Nat. It's cooler," he laughed, a wonderful, deep sound enriched in honey, but she fumed, offended. How dare that peasant boy defied her order? "Anyway, about that date….what do you say?"

"It's still no."

He was crestfallen, but his face quickly recovered into an expression of easy suaveness, "You sure?"

Natalie shot him a glare. "Crystal. Now can you please go away?" she asked, her tone full of authority. "You're bothering me and my friends."

Dan shrugged, not truly caring and smiling arrogantly at Emma and Kristen, who both seemed to be having a cardiac arrest in their velvet seats. "See you around," he smirked once again, "_Nat."_

"Bastard!" she hissed but he was out of earshot, marching back to his table.

"That was…" trailed off Sophie, covering up her laughter with her hand, "_beautiful."_

"Which part?" beamed Natalie, "The turn down or asking him to go away?"

"_Both._"

"You hate him so much," mused Natalie, wondering. Sophie bit her lip, anxiously observing Emma and Kristen as they checked their social media apps, "Why?"

"Look, it's _nothing…_"

Liar, liar, pants on fire, noticed Natalie immediately, the way how Sophie had left her sentences vaguely unfinished, debating on whether to tell her or not. Natalie could easily see when a person was hiding something, a trait she had inherited from her mother and sharpened for her gains since birth.

"Come on," said Natalie, coaxing slightly, "You can tell me."

Sophie ran a hand through her dirty blonde waves, letting it cascade down her pretty heart-shaped face and leaned closer to Natalie's seat, lowering her volume."Okay," she gave in solemnly and Natalie felt her heart rose in success, "But you can't tell anybody. Not even Emma or Kristen. You promise?"

"Promise."

"When I was fifteen, I was...a Nobody. Like _nada, _invisible, the Populars owned the halls, Dan Cahill was in charge of the whole operation, and not once did they ever treated me like I existed. Until one day, Dan came up to me," her voice began to tremble, "he was like, 'Hey, you're Sophie, right?' I was stunned. Dan Cahill, captain of the football team, famous of all the pranksters, notorious for dating extremely pretty girls, talking to _me._ So that one little comment led to a lunchtime talk, texting, flirting, and eventually, he took me out on a date. We went back to his house. His parents were out, so was his nerdy sister. So he started to kiss me and I wasn't thinking, I thought he really liked me, and one thing led to another. He took several...incriminating photos of me, without any clothes, and I thought it was okay- because well, he's my _boyfriend, right? _Wrong. He had sent those photos to _every _one of his friends and never called me ever again," she concluded, eyes burning with hate. "I cried for days until I realized how he was just an asshole, looking for anyone desperate enough to put out. I hate him. I hate him."

"That's…" Natalie found her saliva hard to swallow, "Horrible."

No wonder she'd hated him so much. If anyone ever did that to her...there'll be blood. She couldn't comprehend how the temptation of revenge was not tearing Sophie apart right now.

"I promised myself _one _day I'll get back at him," she growled, gritting her teeth, boring holes into her innocent coffee cup as if imagining Dan Cahill was there and her eyes were lazers. "One day…" she faded, looking at Natalie abruptly when an idea had seized her. "I have an idea."

"...what for?"

A devilish, vengeful smile played at Sophie's lips, a smile Natalie herself knew _far _too well- she'd seen it on her face too many times. It was a smile of revenge and a plot worthy of a devil was forming in her pretty little blonde head. Natalie could already see a plan so convoluted, mustache-twirling putting the pieces together in her mind. Maybe Natalie had underestimated Sophie, maybe she wasn't just a dumb blonde who didn't know how to utilize her chest players.

"You're going to say yes to Dan Cahill."

Or maybe not.

"What?" scoffed Natalie, "After your sad little tale, _no thanks._"

Sophie tutted. "Patience, little one," Sophie laughed cruelly, "You haven't heard the rest. You'll make him fall in love with you...then, you'll _crush _him. We'll be giving him a taste of his own medicine."

Natalie's mouth fell open. _Oh, that was good. But insane. _She regarded Sophie with new eyes, wondering if Sophie could've been related to the Kabras. "And who says I'll agree to this plan?"

"Please?" Sophie begged, her lips pouting but Natalie didn't fall for it. She had tried _that _face on her brother before. "Do it for me? I know you barely know me but…" she huffed, blowing a strand on blonde "think about it. He have done this to so many girls, screwing them over for kicks. We need to stop him, one way or another."

Natalie leaned into her chair, her thoughts scattered across her brain as she watched Dan flirted with the barista, making her blush and slip her number onto the counter. He collected the coffee, went back this friends and high-fived every one of them, as they objectify the girl swooning over Dan behind the counter. Rage created a lump inside Natalie's throat- girls were so naive when it comes to boys like Dan, boys who strung them up on strings of their fancy and cut them up once they were bored of the girls they have. It was not at all fair, not to Sophie, not to _anyone. _A burning passion formed at the pit of her stomach- she did hate Dan Cahill, with a fiery anger; for Sophie, who was fooled to believe him.

"Why not?" Natalie found herself saying, an evil smirk crossing her lips. "Let's do it."

* * *

><p><strong>Dan is an asshole, I know, but for the story purposes; he's supposed to be that way.<strong>

**But oohh Sophie and Natalie's plotting Dan's downfall...meanwhile Dan's betting on Natalie's hearts. OOOH SO EVIL.**

**Please review!**


	4. Russian Roulette

**Don't own 39 Clues!**

Chapter 3

Russian Roulette

Dan Cahill strode into school with his usual swagger; girls' eyes following him while he winked at several of the pretty ones, boys highfiving him while he sauntered past, head high and aviator glasses perched on his nose.

He exuded a confidence like never before, as if his head had swelled twice the normal size of an air balloon, a smirk gracing his face that he knew nauseated her when he entered her Debate class, the kick of adrenaline coursing through his veins when he saw her in the same class as he, her dainty little fingers coiled around a pen, her mouth opened in laughter as Sophie whispered a joke into her ear- how lucky was he? To be in the same class as his proposed target, and it was Debate class, of all lucky shots, Debate- the pinnacle of sexual tension.

"Hey," he smiled dazzlingly at her as she shuffled her papers, going through her debate notes, "how are you doing?"

"It was a good morning," she responded crisply as she sharpened her pencil; the sounds of the blade cutting through the wood and graphite lead skipped over her words, "until you came. What do you want?"

"Oh, just you babe."

"You're repulsive," she replied.. "And I have work to do. Don't you have anyone else to bother?"

"There is a list actually," Dan feigned interest onto his nails. "But you're the first suggestion."

"Well," she said coolly, "Considered me bothered. Now go away or I will."

Gathering her equipments, she marched directly towards where her friends were nesting, completely forgotten about their encounter. He sighed and put his hands into his pockets.

Well, at least he had progress. She didn't call him an idiot like she usually did.

* * *

><p>The Debate Teacher, Mr Wilkins, had decided to start class with a classic competition: girls vs boys. The topic was 'War Is A Necessary Evil'. Five minutes into the first class and they were already grilling their brains for a debate. <em>Great<em>, thought Dan, deathly bored as Mr Wilkins launched into the introduction. His attention averted to a particular English beauty applying lip gloss as she listened to Mr Wilkins talk. He remembered how she shot him down but it only aggravated him to try even harder. As Dan shuffled into his seat besides Hamilton, Mr Wilkins flipped the coin and Dan's team had drew the short side for _against_ but he was determined to win this debate.

"So you'll be allowed ten minutes to do research on your phones or laptop, prepare your debates and then we'll head straight to the debate," briefed Mr Wilkins, highlighting the topic's words with a white chalk.

The class spurned into slow buzz of chatter and Dan chewed on the cap of his pen, uninterested as his team opened up their laptops and begin jotting down notes for the Debate. The opened textbook before him abandoned. Not really bothering to care, Dan got up from his seat and made his way over to the other side of the room where the girls were bundling together, preparing for their arguments against the boys.

"So I hope you're ready to lose," He grinned at Natalie as she made a sound of disgust upon seeing him.

"As if," she replied coolly, combing back her long fringe from her eyes and pursed her lips. "You couldn't form a coherent argument even if you tried."

He didn't even bother to back off. "Oh babe, I love it when you talk dirty."

"Oh, grow up!"

"Shouldn't you?" he chuckled, gesturing to her small, yet growing chest.

"Dan Cahill, you slimy wanker!"

"What, Cobra?" he smirked. "Can't take a joke?"

"Oh I can't take a joke?" she repeated, fuming. "What I _can't_ take is stupid, moronic imbeciles such as you!"

"You didn't find it funny?" he pouted, mockingly curious. "What a shame. Everybody else did!"

She let out a vicious scream and lunged for him, manicured nails lashing out as she clawed his face and they went tackling, rolling on the floor. They attracted a crowd of onlookers surging in and surrounded them in an enclosed circle as Natalie aimed for his neck but Dan parried her arms, punching her in the stomach. She doubled over in pain but recovered as she invigorated her efforts to kill the living daylights out of him.

"Stop!" Mr Wilkins cried out, pushing past the crowd. "Stop right now- please!"

"You're the most intolerable boy I've ever met!" she spat out viciously as she straddled him onto the floor, her hands trying to wriggle out of his iron-grip. Maybe it was her imagination but he sure had strong arms that kept her from clawing his eyes out.

"You know you're kind of hot when you're angry," he whispered, his strength easily overpowering hers.

"And you're a pighead!" Spittle struck his face and she shoved her knee up, smashing it into his groin. He groaned in pain and before she could do worse, Mr Wilkins pulled her off him.

"Detention for such wild behaviour!" he announced angrily as Dan clutched his family jewels in pain and Natalie fixed the straps of her dress, brushing off her mussed-up hair into a neater form. "Both of you."

* * *

><p>Apparently, Detention wasn't enough to satisfy the Principal's temper. Not only did they had two-hour detention for the rest of the week with each other, they were also suspended. Dan was fine with being suspended. Seriously, getting out of school for punishment? Best thing ever.<p>

Natalie, however, didn't feel the same.

"This is going on my permanent record!" she gasped as they were ushered out of the office by the administrative receptionist and into an empty classroom for their lunch time detentions. "Harvard is not going to accept me!"

"Oh relax, one detention is not going to hurt your chances, Cobra," he rolled his eyes. He was resting an ice-pack on his..._erm,_ special area. What made her mad about this whole arrangement was not only her GPA and permanent record screwed, it was she had to spend her imprisonment with him. Even worse, he still looked...kind of cute…with an ice pack on his private area. Her cheeks tinged with pink but she didn't show her face to him and immediately banished the thought. Dan Cahill, the devil spawn, cute? She was a teenage girl with raging hormones. Sue her, but _Dan Cahill?_ She was above this! His irritating voice brought her back to reality: "Don't be so dramatic."

"What would you know?" she retorted as they took their seats with her usual wit. "You don't even have a future, you-"

"Silence," snapped the detention teacher, a substitute, "And sit down, Miss Kabra."

Dan snickered as Natalie settled into her seat, gritting her teeth and flipping him the finger whenever the substitute wasn't looking. They spend fifteen minutes in silence as the detention teacher texted on her iPhone, smiling to herself as her fingers skimmed across the screen. Dad played a game of invisible tic-tac-toe by himself while Natalie sat and crossed her arms, looking at anywhere but him.

"Now if you excuse me," the detention teacher said suddenly as she pushed her glasses up against the bridge of her nose and rose from her seat. "I have a place to go. Don't you go anywhere."

"Yes, ma'am," they rattled off simultaneously.

The clicks of the substitute's heels rang through the classroom as she walked out the door and once it was closed, Natalie broke the silence. "Ugh."

"What's the bitterness, sweetheart?" Dan shot her a lazy smile that made her skin crawled. She hated his smile, those dimples that appeared along with it, and his smug attitude. "Most girls would cut their limbs off to be in an empty classroom with me."

"Lucky for me," she began haughtily, "I'm not_ like_ most girls."

"Exactly." He put up his crossed-legs onto an empty table. She sniffled. What deplorable manners. "You're a different story, Cobra."

"It's Kabra," she corrected bossily. "Get it right."

"Not till you finally decide to go out with me," he replied, and with a smirk: "Cobra."

There was something about his nonchalance...laziness that pissed her off so much. It was like not ever once he cared about girls he hurt or even his grades. He didn't give a shit and it infuriated her. And he acted as though he was such hot shit, like she was just pretending not to throw herself at him. _Please,_ she assumed presumptuously, _I have dignity and class_._ Not some stupid American blonde bimbo._ The way how his eyes were targeted on her, like she was some prize to be won. He was every reason for her to hate men. Arrogant and self-assuming, he always thought everybody loved him. Her mind flashed back to yesterday with her conversation she had with Sophie and her stomach bubbled in rage. Yes, he was good-looking but that didn't stop him from being an asshole.

She held up her neck high. "Not even if you were the last man on Earth."

"And why not?" he allowed himself to laugh. She gripped the edges of her table tight, telling herself to calm down. The last thing she needed was to add assault to her permanent record. "Don't fool yourself, Nat. You're hot. I'm hot."

She seethed, her scowl deepening.

He leaped off his seat and strode towards her desk, smirking as he did so. He was looking down on her, invading her personal space with every step closer, and succeeding in making her uncomfortable. His green eyes burned with a fiery determination to make her his. She shifted in her seat. There was something about his eyes that caused shivers to travel up her spine, consuming her with such venomous emotions. It was hatred, _that_ was for certain. Pure, searing hatred. She wanted to make him pay for what he did to Sophie, what he probably did to hundreds of other girls. He was a player, a heartbreaker, a total manwhore, the guys called him cool, the girls lusted over him; she despised it. There was not enough curse words in the world to sum up her hate. She was an assertive sort of spirit, the type who was used to getting what she wants. And so was he, picking off girls like apples from a vine. Their clashes would be immense. And she was here to teach him a lesson.

"Don't pretend it's the best compliment you've ever gotten," he said lowly, their face inches apart. Her stomach cart-wheeled. "The hottest guy in school chasing after you? Like it doesn't make you all _hot and bothered,_" he leaned down, his breath brushing against her ear as she inhaled through her mouth, trying to think rationally. "Don't pretend you don't want me, Cobra."

That's it. Her hand struck up and slapped him hard on the face. How dare he! Assuming she was another one of his sluts- she was shaking with rage.

"You're delusional."

"Playing hard to get?"

She looked at him straight in the eye. "In your dreams, Daniel."

"Oh come on," his eyes glimmered, soaking up every fight she put up. Their arguments, the way she narrowed her eyes at him and quipped those witty little retorts...they were his drug. "What can I do to make you want me?"

Then an idea, an idea her mother would've revel in for such genius scheming, bloomed in her head. Of course, the only reason why she was doing this was because she had given up to peer pressure or purely to sack it to Dan Cahill that he had it coming for him exactly. Embracing a sly expression onto her lips, his interest piqued as he realized she or once wasn't scowling at him.

"I heard you gamble," she dangled it casually, spinning off the act quite impressively. _And the Oscar goes to...Natalie Kabra_, she thought with fireworks going off in her head. _Stay focus, Natalie. _She evaluated her task and set ahead on the focus, going off on her imaginary tangent: "I love bets. Most importantly, I love winning. You?"

"You heard right, Kabra," his eyes skimmed her face, which had been pulled into a perfect, strained smile full of teeth. Thank Goodness, she had one hell of a poker face. _Say hello to my new car,_ he was mentally pumping fists in the air. "I'm the best one there is. And since you like winning so much, how do you care for losing?"

She snorted. "I never lose. I was right. You_ are_ delusional."

"Care to prove it?"

Talk about hook, line and sinker.

She flipped her hair, showcasing her long, graceful neck. He gulped as she revealed her cinnamon tone chest and flirtatiously smiled, "Well, Cahill, maybe you might be fun after all." She kept her eye-contact with this selfish womanizer. He would get his karma soon, if she had anything to say about it. He leaned back onto the table he was sitting on, his t-shirt stretching against his abdomen. She swallowed painfully and maintained her charade. If there was anything she could gather from the way he held himself was that he never backed down from a challenge, a gamble, a bet- no, he was much too arrogant for that. Overall, it was awfully convenient. She would start slowly, lure him in, reel him out and then she would used a pair of scissors and sliced him down like a marionette with it's strings cut.

But it was possible that the bait could escape unscathed. She pushed the thought out of her mind. She would win. She would crush Dan Cahill like a broken toy. She would crush him like the bug he was.

"What about...a bet, as you Americans seem to call it?"

"I knew there was something I like about you." Natalie resisted scowling scornfully at his wooing endeavours. Honestly, was everything he ever spouted out a pick-up line? He was always saying things for laughs, it was redundant and childish. Nonetheless, Natalie was always an expert at masking her irritability with her calculating amber eyes. "And what would you like to bet, Cobra?"

Oh this was far too good. If her mother could see her now. But before she could relished in her victory, she set a straight face. She had to keep stringing him along, or else she lose the whole game.

"I'd like to bet me."

"Huh?" Confusion crossed his face and knitted his eyebrows. Puzzlement evident. "I don't understand."

I scooched closer towards him. "Scared, Cahill? I meant that we'll bet if you could be in a long-lasting relationship. We do everything a stupid couples does: we'll kiss, we go on dates, we hug and spend time with each other. And you have to be entirely faithful for a whole month. Can you do that?"

He pondered it and she could see that nauseating smirk of his crawling back onto his face. His jaw tightened abruptly. "Of course but what's in it for me?"

"If you win," she batted her eyelashes, "You get to sleep with me and I'll do anything you want…anytime you want."

"Oh really?" he murmured as his impulsive hand shot up onto her thigh. Her breath hitched, astonished at the sudden physical contact. Her cheeks flushed but she had her embarrassment under control. She wanted nothing more than to swat his hand away since her limbs twitched in response and her skin glowed in heat. "How interesting." His tone exuded lecherous intentions as it crawled up her thigh. She closed her eyes shut, revolted, as it triggered the gag reflex at the mental image that flashed into her head on the mere thought of sleeping with (insert belch here) Dan Cahill.

"And why a bet like that?"

"I thought it'd be fun." _And you'll get what's happening to you._ "And see if you're really as good as they say you are."

"I'm more than good," he traced shapes onto her thigh. Shapes such as flowers, stars but not hearts. Never hearts. His fingers on her bare skin was prickling, uncomfortable, new. The sensation...it was so uncertain and strange and not Natalie. She wanted to experience more but instead of allowing herself to enjoy it, she slapped his hand violently. He recoiled, disappointment lucidly flashing in those emerald eyes. "What makes you think you'll win?"

She shrugged but on the inside the gears inside her head was spinning like a bunch of clocks. She had the perfect plan. Because Sophia was indeed right.

The player needed to get played.

"And let's say you do win," he suggested, borderline implicit of incredulity. His sandy, blonde hair caught the streams of the sunlight filtering in from the windows and it lit up his whole head like a halo of gold. He appeared angelic. She wanted to scoff at the irony of it all. Daniel Cahill was anything _but_ angelic. "What do you get?"

"Then you'll have to do something for me," she tossed it out there. "Your punishment is simple: you won't be going after anymore girls for the rest of your high school career."

"Fine," he chuckled. "Alright. That's simple enough. I win, you become my bitch. You win, I become your bitch. I'm going to enjoy…" he bit his lip as he stroke my right cheek but she forced it away.

With a painful smile: "Save it for after, Cahill."

"It's Dan."

She was caught off-guard. "Excuse me?"

"The name's Dan." He stretched out his hand languidly as her hand shot out at the same time."Do we have a deal?"

Feeling like the poisonous queen she was, Natalie's glittering smile matched her glittering eyes. "We have a deal."

If only she knew he was playing her at the same time.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the late update! But I hoped you like it- Natan's underway! It'd be cool to see Natalie and Dan as a 'couple'. Who do you think would get played the most?<br>**

**REVIEW!**


	5. Date With The Devil

**DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN SHIT. **

Chapter 4

**Date With The Devil**

"_That is genius," _breathed Sophie, eyes wide with awe once Natalie had prepped her on the recent events that took place yesterday, about how the detention had led to her making one risky gamble to break Dan Cahill's heart and inevitably put an end to his dating career for the rest of eternity...well, technically it was until they all graduated from high school, but it was virtually the same thing.

Natalie bathed in the glow of the compliment, beaming and smirking as she turned around from the mirror, breaking a gaze from her reflection. Even after school, with the "I know right? Not only _will _he learn his lesson, but he won't be having his hands up any girl any time soon."

Sophie snorted, "Served him right."

"Finally," grinned Natalie, equally vicious. She could feel a bond connecting them together, bringing them as friends. It was a weirdly warm feeling settling in her stomach, making a home in that icy heart of hers. Friends...she never really had any friends back in London. It was not like she was that friendless loser in the cafeteria table; there were plenty of girls flocking her, admiring her- the Ice Queen of the London's High Society. But she knew they were all there because of her money and status, silently hoping one day they would be like her. Now she had no money, no title and none of them ever wrote an email wishing her a good day once she lost her money. They were most likely laughing at her.

But with Sophie, this relationship felt different- it felt genuine. Sophie willingly came to her house _this _afternoon, right after cheer practice, with the Attleboro High's red and white cheerleading outfit on, not even bothered to change, at her instant request….like a _true _friend. Natalie never had that before. It made her felt weak, as if she had suddenly possessed a vulnerability other than her constant need to shop for designer items. She had formed an attachment to somebody else other than herself, something her mother had always advised ill upon. But it also felt really nice. Like for once, she had somebody else to depend on.

"So, anyway, I should probably go," Sophie cleared her throat and leaped up from Natalie's bed. With a long toss of her blonde hair, Natalie found that Sophie's obnoxious hair flip wasn't so obnoxious anymore. Kind of like a little quirk of her friend. _Friend, _Natalie tested it in her mind nervously. It didn't _sound _so bad. "My mom would be asking for me."

"Yeah, go ahead," said Natalie, trying to make herself sound friendly and approachable. "I'll see you at school."

They shared a brief smile before Sophie exited out of her room and Natalie turned to her closet to pick out an outfit for tomorrow's date with...Dan Cahill, she cringed at his name, mentally fighting the urge to throw up over her satin quilts. After detention ended, Dan got her number and instantly texted her:

_Bet is on when you come with me on a date on Friday. Willing to play heavy? ;)_

She was nauseated by that winky face at the end, then she was even _more _grossed out when she realized that the 'play heavy' was a dirty innuendo. She had texted back, of course, equally fueled with the determination to burn him to the ground:

_You're on, Cahill._

But now the adrenaline rush had faded and all that was left was queasy uneasiness, like she just ate bad sushi and ran for a mile. Though she seemed confident when she pitched the idea to Sophie, she was not anymore. Sure, Natalie prided herself on her ability of inciting perfectly vindictive take-downs. After all, she _was _the Queen of her old London private school and she didn't win that crown for nothing. She had to fight bitches left and right, blood and nails for that title. But when it came to dissecting the minds of arrogant, hormone-infected teenage boys, it was a new gray area for Natalie and she had to figure out how to get Dan Cahill, somebody who she was pretty sure never fell in love for anybody before, to fall in love with her. In a month. That was only four weeks. _Thirty days. _

_**Bollocks. **_

_Is that the sound of my girl giving up? _Natalie could hear her mother hissing in her ears, livid with rage, if she ever caught the wind of Natalie's sword lowering in defeat.

_No, _Natalie wanted to shout. She will get Dan Cahill to give in. She _will. _

Even if it was the last thing she ever did on this godforsaken planet.

* * *

><p>"So Natalie Kabra had <em>agreed <em>to go out with you this Friday?"

Dan shrugged nonchalantly, popping the 'p', and then smirking. "What can I say? I _am _irresistable."

"Oh let some air out of your head, will you?"

"Hullo, kiddos!" Nellie Gomez appeared from the background, emerging from the kitchen with a platter of newly baked cookies, delicious smoke of flour and sugar wafting from it as she carried it over to the table in oven mittens. "I made some cookies! Just experimenting a new recipe so you guys can have the first taste."

"You should stop calling us kiddos, y'know," pointed out Amy, "I'm nearly eighteen. I can almost vote and decide whether Donald Trump should be our president."

Nellie pouted as she set her cookies on a coaster. "Oh don't _remind _me and Donald Trump should figure out how to get a more believable wig before running for President."

"I still can't believe you're almost eighteen," said Dan, grabbing a cookie from the tray, "And you haven't even got laid!"

Red bloomed on Amy's cheeks; the same colour as her hair. "Oh shut up! It's not my fault I choose to wait for the _right _guy!"

"Is that what you told Evan when he saw your old lady wrinkles?"

Amy glared at her brother. "Do you _want _to ride the bus for the rest of your high school career?"

"But _Amy!" _gasped Dan in mocked mortification, pressing a hand to his chest and clutching it theatrically, "Are you trying to ruin my social life because you're jealous of it?"

Amy's temper narrowed into a deadly squint, "Shut it or it will happen."

Dan shut up but grinned and turned to their au pair, who was watching the exchange with quiet, dry amusement. "Anyway, Nellie, did you hear about me scoring the new girl?"

"You haven't _scored _her," interrupted Amy irritably, like a really annoying alarm clock- in Dan's opinion. "She's not a football game. She's a _person." _

"Adolf Hitler's a person," shot Dan, "And I guess we should care about him too."

"_Kids," _Nellie said before Amy could launch on an educational lecture about how Natalie Kabra and Adolf Hitler was two completely different stories (oh if she _knew). _"Dan, what did you want to tell me?"

"Anyway, basically, this totally hot chick finally curbed into going on a date with me after a few days of badgering her," said Dan, stretching lazily, but on the inside, there was a fire coursing in his veins at the mere thought of it, at the mere thought of the lanky brunette and her golden eyes that told him she could probably ruin him at the blink of an eye. There was something irrevocably hot about Natalie kabra. Maybe because she provided a challenge towards him; something _more _than the stupid, shallow and _easy _girls that just throw themselves at him and then cry about how he dumped them later. Maybe because she was smart enough to know not to surrender into his whims and there was something more satisfying about winning her over, finally _reducing _her into nothing else but another mark of the tally, because right then he knew he would've won the battle and that addictive _burst _of triumph would be even more liberating than scoring a brilliant touchdown for football or the afterglow of a really good, long session of sex.

"So what?" Natalie arched her eyebrows, missing the point because high school drama was well beyond her days. "What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that she's a challenge," replied Dan, "And I plan to figure the hell out of it."

"And to make me feel ever older," remarked Nellie, shaking her head, utterly disgruntled. "You tell me you are having more action than _I _am."

* * *

><p>"You're going...on a date?" gurgled Ian with difficulty, attempting to imbibe the word as Natalie pierced him with her famous acidic glares while hot-ironing her hair into perfect, tight ringlets. She released her grip on the tongs, letting one lock fall back idly into her mane of long, coal black curls. "Did I hear that right?"<p>

"Yes Ian," quipped Natalie sharply, indicating that anymore jabs about her going on dates would result in a very painful end with a searing curling iron. "You heard it _fine. _Any more times I've to repeat it, I swear you're going to go backwards."

Ian didn't even dignify her retort with a response; instead he chuckled at her and she nearly threw the hot iron at his stupid face.

Her makeup was already finished and satisfactory, according to Natalie's ridiculously high standards. It wasn't too much without being too casual- she was after all a Kabra. Kabras don't _do _casual. The stilettos, a pair of five-inches, was awaiting her by the doorway and she strut over, then picked it up and strapped them on. For finishing touches, she curled her lashes once again and reapplied the lip gloss. Then fluffed out her hair so they spilled down in beautiful, lush curls and sprayed some hair mousse for volume. The dress was nothing less but a lace red cocktail Elie Saab dress that emphasized her skin tone and helped accentuate her chest areas. Sophie picked it out and Natalie could easily see why- the girl had impeccable taste.

It was the dress- big enough _look at me _and addictive enough to make their eyes stay there. It would drive Dan Cahill nuts that he wouldn't be able to touch her like he normally would to other girls; he would have to actually be a _good, kind _boyfriend and treat her like a real lady.

Ha.

She whirled around in front of the mirror and asked Ian, "What do you think?"

"Isn't it a bit too much?" he cocked a bushy eyebrow. "I mean, what if he takes you out to the movies?"

"We won't _go _to a bloody shoddy cinema if he's taking me out."

Ian peered at her through the fringe of his shaggy dark hair. The impulse to brush it out of his eyes were far too strong and it reached the proximity of being far too long. It almost made him look feminine. She annotated a self-reminder to nag him to get a haircut. "It must be _so _hard to be so superior all the time, Natalie."

She snorted and snatched up her sparkly red clutch. "You should talk."

Suddenly, the bell rang and she felt a jolt of excitement shot up her spine but she squashed it down. "He's here! Now go away."

Ian rose to his feet languidly, "Oh no, I want to see what idiot decided to take you out." He dashed over to the front door with her teetering on her heels behind him.

"Ian!" she screeched, her footsteps clicking with anger.

Ian flashed her the finger and twisted the oak door open, then pushed it open and it swung a wide arc to reveal Dan Cahill. Dan was leaning on the door's threshold, playing some app on his phone while patiently waiting for Natalie Kabra to grace him with her presence.

Her breath hitched at the sight of him. He turned out to be not what she expected- honestly, she was predicting those terrible unwashed skinny jeans, a shirt with some American superhero and two tickets to see whatever horrendous movie was on. But he actually...dressed up well. He wore a pressed checkered button down paired with a pair of ironed trousers and polished black shoes. He was the perfect gentleman. If Natalie didn't know who he was spotted him walking down the streets of London in that particular getup, Natalie might've possibly...irrevocably...put her on the list of dreamy crushes.

The train of thought revolted her and provoked a gag reaction to retch out of her system.

"You clean up well," she remarked, raking him with a onceover. A goofy grin appeared on his face. "But I've seen better." _Lie. _He rolled his eyes but he wasn't injured by the insult.

"You sure, Kabra?" he challenged boldly, puffing his very well taken care off chest. "I think I'm the best you've ever had."

"Stop flattering yourself."

Ian cleared his throat, pervading the sexual tension in the air, and stuck out his hand at Dan. "Ian Kabra, Natalie's brother."

"Cool, man."

"So, Dan?" Ian's amber eyes flashed dangerously at the boy who was almost equal to Ian's staggering 6'3. Dan barely cowered, except coolly received Ian's squeezing rough handshake with a smile. Natalie had to stop a scoff from tearing out of her throat at the exchange of machoness. "You think you're worthy of my sister's attention?"

"Well, she's beautiful," said Dan, not the least bit intimidated as he stared at Natalie, suddenly drawn to the red dress as she slowed her pace towards the front door. Natalie sensed the heaviness of his stare landing on her as she raised her head to meet him, feeling two points of dark colour raiding her face in humiliation and flattery.

_Stop it, _she scolded herself. You do _not _like Dan Cahill- under any circumstances. She hated him. Hated his ways. He probably thought she was easy game. She was someone who was deceived by the bad puns, the goofy crooked smile that made her heart skip a beat, the messy and unkempt sandy straw-blonde hair as if he just rolled out of bed in the morning, the muscled abs due to his thirst for running after a rugby-shaped ball every for a couple of hours, those minty green eyes that were pale and icy- reminding her of frosty pond lakes in the crisp morning- with a glint of mischief...she swallowed painfully before she was so dearly lost.

Ian arched his eyebrows as she seemed to be drifting off into a land where nobody existed. He cleared his throat, pulling her away from her reverie. "Very well then. Natalie?"

"We'll be back before midnight," she promised him, rubbing her hands to stop them from shaking. Natalie shot Dan a sharp look: "Right, Daniel?"

He winked at her and her stomach did a somersault. _Shut the bloody hell up, _she told her gut, which was tingling with stupid hormones. "Right," he did that infuriating smirk and then her stomach stopped tingling. She hated that smirk. He held up his arm, like a true gentleman. "Shall we, Miss Kabra?"

She tried to bite the instinct to retort with a saccharine-sweet remark and smiled as sweetly, as deceptively innocent as she can but Dan wasn't fooled. She wanted to win, he could tell, but like hell, he would let _that _happen. She accepted his arm, looping hers around his. Suddenly, she became acutely aware of how close their bodies were, the heat emitting from his and the smell of his Calvin Klein cologne. From here, she could see his eyelashes flutter and the small splash of freckles on his nose, the slight blush painting his pale cheeks as the curve of his pink lips shaped in waiting for an answer, whether she would be ready to put two feet in their sick twisted Russian Roulette.

"We shall."

Let the game begin.

* * *

><p><strong>dun dun DUN. <strong>

**short chapter, i know, and it doesn't makes up for it. but review pretty please?**


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